re: #122 ObserverArt

I still remember the big old stain glass windows, murals and statues in the huge Catholic church I was scared to death in as a youth. Abraham getting ready to knife his son, Stations of the Cross beatings, whippings and Crown of Thorns, etc.

But at least the statues were all Italian marble…the little German Catholic church my mother came from had painted statues…blood trickling from open wounds and all.

Even as a kid I was like “what are we celebrating here???”

Even as a young kid, the story of Abraham and Isaac made me wonder what kind of fucked up religion I was in.

Thenwhen they got to to celebrating the various martyrdoms: inverted crucifixion, being skinned alive, burnt alive, eaten by wild animals or shot full of arrows and I really wondered what kind of sick people were into that sort of stuff, and why they found it necessary to teach it to children.